Undercover
by Black Stormraven
Summary: pre-Rebels. Kanan and Hera go undercover to bust an illegal slave trade ring. But like all plans, theirs doesn't stick to the script. Kanan/Hera, OCs. Gift for skyguyandsnips based on her fic suggestion.
1. Chapter 1

"No! Absolutely not! I am _not_ wearing that thing, Kanan!"

Kanan looked at the outfit. "What's wrong with it? It doesn't show too much."

Hera made a face. "It shows plenty."

Kanan let out a dramatic sigh. "Hera, this whole part of plan was your idea."

"Fine. Then _you _go as the bait and I'll be the slave-peddling scum."

Hera didn't take her eyes off the dress as it flew across the room to land on the cot in a crumpled heap. "We've been over this: it would be much less suspicious if you were the bait. I don't like it either, but we don't have much choice if we want to bust this trade ring. You were fine with it before. Why the change of heart now?"

"It's not the plan itself that bothers me, Kanan," she said, her voice having lost its edge. She still hadn't taken her eyes off the garment, as if it was going to get up and bite her.

Kanan crossed his arms over his chest. "Then what is it?" His irritation soon gave way to concern when she didn't answer for a long moment. "Hera?"

The captain bowed her head so slightly that Kanan would have missed it if he hadn't been so intent on her. "It doesn't have a neck."

Did he hear her right? "I'm sorry, what?"

Hera finally turned away from the dress and fixed him with a look that dared him to mock her. "It doesn't have a neck," she said louder. A pause swelled between them until it filled the entire cabin. "Don't you dare laugh."

Kanan tilted his head at her. "I'm not laughing. Just...why is that a problem?"

Hera's right hand twitched, but she stopped it. "It just...it just is, alright."

Now thoroughly confused by her sudden change in attitude about their plan, Kanan stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. "Hera, what's really going on? This isn't like you." Gone was the defensive tone in his voice, now replaced with pure concern.

Hera looked at him for a beat, then exhaled and turned her eyes to the floor. Her right hand came up to the collar of her flight suit and undid the fastener. She hesitated, then pulled the collar open. "This."

Whatever Kanan had been expecting, it certainly wasn't the gruesome sight he looked at now. A ragged scar cut its way across the bottom of Hera's throat. It was smooth and pale with age, but no less brutal-looking. A million thoughts ran through his head, all refusing to coalesce into a clear image; he wouldn't allow them. "Hera," he whispered, horrified. His thumb gingerly touched the far edge of the scar, pulling back when she flinched. "What happened?"

Hera didn't look up, but she didn't move away either. "Two boys." Her voice didn't sound like her at all. The smallness of it shocked Kanan even more than the sight of the scar. "They cornered me. Wrapped a piece of barbed wire around my neck." Her eyes shot up to look right into his. Anger, pain, and a soul-crushing hurt swirled in her gaze, the intensity of it startling him. "They did it for _fun_, Kanan. Because I was female, because I was a Twi'lek. Not for anything I'd done or they thought I'd done. Know what made it worse?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know how much worse it could get. "Two Imperial officers were nearby. They just stood there. They _watched _while those boys tortured me. I was _eleven_."

Kanan could only stare at her. Her shoulders shook with suppressed anger under his hands. Years'-old emotions had come to the surface now...and he was the one who had caused it. Regret welled up in his chest at the realization. "Oh, Hera, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," she said with a sigh, her voice sounding more normal now. "I never told anyone. It's not exactly something I'm proud of."

Kanan remained rooted to the spot as she stepped away and refastened her collar. The air grew awkward in the sudden silence. He didn't know what to say, what to do. He scratched the back of his neck, looking at anything but Hera. "I, uh...I can have Chopper trade the dress for another one if you want. Or we can switch roles if that would make you feel more comfortable." He attempted a grin. "I know you like ordering me around as it is."

Hera let out a harsh breath that might have been a laugh and turned back to him. "No, you're right. A Twi'lek slave would draw less attention. And we don't have time to worry about the clothes. Just get me something to hide it. No one's gonna want to pay for 'damaged goods'."

Kanan shuddered at the ease with which she said that. He knew this wasn't real. This was just a deception to infiltrate and hopefully collapse a slave ring that had spread into the Mid Rim region. The Empire claimed to deal with 'illegitimate' slavers and traffickers with the harshest of punishments (the reality of it was that black market slave trading cut into the Empire's own profits from the despicable practice), but slavery was slavery, legalized or not. Neither Hera nor Kanan wouldn't sit idly by when they could and, more importantly, _would _actually do something about it.

But knowing this was all just an act didn't stop the truth from being any uglier: Hera and any other Twi'lek was easy prey for a slaver based on nothing more than their species. And any kind of blemish lowered their value in the eyes of those who put price tags on life itself.

A _beep-boop_ from the doorway broke him out of his thoughts. Chopper strolled in with something clutched in one of his pincers. It was a broad gold necklace studded with green gems (all fake, of course), just the right shade to match Hera's skin tone. Chopper lifted the necklace to Hera, who took it with a look of astonishment in her eyes, and whistled at her. "Cams in the stones? Nice thinking, Chop." She patted his dome with her free hand, a gesture she had done often enough that its meaning had not been lost on the droid. He beeped at her again and left just as casually as he had entered. "Now, you," she said to Kanan. "Out. We're going to drop out of hyperspace soon and we need to change."

Now that the awkwardness had passed, Kanan felt more comfortable cracking a joke. "Sure you don't want some help with that dress?"

Hera laughed and shoved him out the door. "I'm sure if I can handle flying a ship, I can handle a dress."

* * *

Twenty minutes and Kanan was changed and ready to go. He opted for a dark shirt that opened to just below his collarbone and dark pants with orange stripes down the sides. A shoulder holster hugged his chest and another two hung from the belt on his hips; all three held loaded blasters. He looked just right for the part of 'Criminal Underworld Scum #1' in this little play they were about to put on.

So where was Hera?

"Yo, Hera," he shouted down the hall as he brought the _Ghost _back into realspace. Chopper let out a screech at the sudden volume of his voice in the confined space. "We're almost at the rendezvous point. What's taking so long? I thought you said you could handle a dress all on your own."

A faint tinkling sounded down the hall, growing louder with each passing second. Kanan turned to the source...and nearly forgot how to breathe.

Hera had managed the dress by herself, all right. Shimmering white, trimmed with gold, and as soft as Bespin silk, the cloth molded to her frame like a second skin until it flared out from her hips. Long slits in the skirt allowed brief glimpses of her legs to be seen with each step before being hidden away again. The tinkling noise that had preceded her appearance came from the tiny bells that dangled from the hem. What could only loosely be referred to as a neckline dipped clear down to her navel and seemed dangerously close to slipping from her shoulders. Cutouts at the waist exposed even more skin.

"Not a word out of either of you," she snapped suddenly. If Kanan didn't know her better, he'd swear that she was blushing. "I can't get the clasp on this thing. You mind?"

Kanan gave his head a little shake and stood to take the necklace from her outstretched hand. He lifted it over her head and gently laid it against her neck over the scar. He took his time fastening it, surreptitiously committing the image of her to memory. He was acutely aware of how close he was to her exposed back and the heat that emanated from her. Was she wearing just the barest hint of perfume...or was that all her?

"Are you done yet?"

Kanan shook his head again. _Focus, idiot. _"Yeah, yeah." He gave himself a mental kick as he stepped away from her; a change in wardrobe didn't mean anything else had changed. "Just waiting for Xyla to ping back."

Xyla was their contact, a Clawditewho had been working in bringing down illegal trafficking for years. She would meet up with the _Ghost_ and transport Hera and Kanan to Tilo Prime where they would meet with Hera's potential 'buyer'. Kanan shuddered at the word. Although they had this planned down to the last detail, he still didn't like the idea of Hera going this deep unarmed. "Remember," he said as she took her seat beside him. "If this goes south, break cover and contact me or Xyla. We'll come pick you up and haul out."

"Yes, _Mom_," she replied. "I appreciate it, but you can stop worrying. All we need is footage and names to hand over to the Tilo Prime Senate and the ring collapses. A simple in-and-out snatch-and-grab. Easy."

"Yeah, but-" Kanan stopped himself short. Arguing over the severity of this mission wouldn't do anything but put everyone on edge. They needed to be calm if they wanted this to go without a hitch. "Just be careful, okay?"

Hera flashed him a one-sided smile. "I'm always careful."


	2. Chapter 2

The Zygerrian made a slow circle around Hera, cataloging every detail to determine how much she was really worth. "Good skin tone. Decent bone structure in the face. Arms are too thin for manual labor.

Kanan stomped down his indignation at the callous assessment. "But you're not going to use her for construction, are you, friend? That's what Gamorreans are for."

The slaver ignored his comment. A clawed hand cupped Hera's chin and tilted her head up; she quickly diverted her eyes from his and adopted a posture of pure submission. It disturbed Kanan how easily she did that. "Three thousand seems a little steep for a Twi'lek. I can buy two of them for that price."

"Sure, if you want mediocre product." Kanan started his own circle around both Hera and the Zygerrian. He lifted his arms in a shrug. "But think about how good she'd look walking behind you in gold chains. She looks good in gold." Hera shot him the briefest look; he knew she was struggling not to chew both of them out for talking about her like she was a housecat. "And how many Twi'leks with green skin are there on Tilo Prime? I'm guessing not a whole lot. Would earn you a lot of attention."

The Zygerrian didn't respond; his focus had moved from her face to the necklace. He grasped it and tore it away before either of them could react. Kanan sucked in a breath while Hera's hands instinctively went to cover the scar. The Zygerrian held her hands down and eyed the puckered flesh. "What was that about 'mediocre product'?"

Kanan quickly stepped up, but kept his voice neutral. "An incident from before I took possession of her. Believe me, I know it's not pretty to look at, but it's an easy cover-up. And you'll forget all about it once she starts working. She's good at what she does."

The felinoid dropped her hands and glared at Kanan for a beat. He started his circle again, slower this time, his golden gaze more critical. Hera's breathing sped up when he stopped at her back; she kept her eyes fixed on Kanan as an anchor to keep herself from doing something stupid. The buyer trailed the back of one sharp claw down her bare spine, making her shiver in disgust. Kanan caught the vicious spark in her eyes when that same hand flattened on her hip. But he didn't have time to stop her reaction: she turned and smacked the offending hand away with enough force to make an audible _crack. _Once again, Kanan held his breath, this time with a hand poised over the blaster on his right hip.

Of all the possible outcomes, he didn't expect the Zygerrian to laugh. "She has fire, I'll give her that." Hera seemed to finally remember where she was and quickly dropped her head and hunched her shoulders. He leaned in close to whisper against her ear cone, "I'll enjoy breaking you of that."

Now it was Kanan's turn to squash down the instinctive urge to rip this monster apart. If worse came to worse, Hera could handle herself. He repeated that in his head until his anger receded to a simmering ache. "See, you're not just paying for the product, but the experience. You'll be getting your money's worth, trust me."

As if the unwelcome touch on her hip wasn't bad enough, the one to her left lek was downright menacing. She shook in revulsion. "I've no doubt of that. I still say three thousand is too much. I'll give you fifteen hundred."

Kanan put a hand to his heart in mock hurt. "You wound me, friend. It's bad enough I've got to unload my favorite slave, but for half the asking price? I'm insulted. Twenty five."

The Zygerrian didn't take his eyes off Hera; surely he was thinking about all the ways he could break her spirit and turn her into a good little servant. "Eighteen. You're still trying to sell damaged product, human."

"Two thousand and you've got a deal. I'm already losing money on this."

A long moment passed. Then another. "Fine." The slaver pulled an unmarked credit chip from the pouch at his side and handed it to Kanan, who quickly put it in his pocket. "Aren't you going to make sure it's all there?"

Kanan lifted a shoulder in a lopsided shrug. "I trust ya. Take care of her, friend. Treat her good and she'll do anything for you."

"Are you telling me how to treat my own property?" Kanan remained silent under that piercing gaze. "I didn't think so." He moved behind Hera again, this time raising the necklace over her head to hide her scar again. The gentility in his touch was a grim echo of how Kanan had fastened the clasp back on the _Ghost._ He could see Hera's arms begin to tremble; whether from anger or fear he wasn't so sure anymore. "You're still here?" the Zygerrian sneered, his hands closing possessively around Hera's shoulders.

"Just taking one last look at my best piece of merchandise." He hated the words, hated saying them even more. "Be a good girl." He hated saying those even more. But one look at Hera's eyes, hardened with determination and an impressive amount of restraint, and he remembered that this was an act. He didn't mean the things he said and she knew it. They were both playing parts, nothing more, nothing less. And if everything went according to plan it would all be over soon and they could go back to normal.

But knowing that didn't make it any easier to turn and walk away, to leave her (literally) in the hands of a being who was capable of stars knew what.


	3. Chapter 3

Two standard days, according to Xyla's chrono, passed. To Kanan, they may as well have been two years. It was torture watching the visual feed from the cams in Hera's necklace, listening to how the Zygerrian scum talked to her. What made it worse was how easily Hera fell into her role. She'd told him once that Twi'leks stored deep memory stretching back generations in their lekku; her people had always been a favorite target for slavers, and so those traits that had helped her ancestors survive their enslavement (obedience, submission, silence) were passed down to her. Of course, it took an effort to sweep aside her own personality, but once it was done it was surprisingly easy to become someone else.

That didn't make it any easier having to watch the cams and sit there and do nothing. The day before, Hera had tried sneaking into her 'owner's' study where he kept his illicit records. She'd been caught and thrown to the floor. Kanan had jumped to his feet in an instinctive effort to protect her despite the distance. "Don't!" she'd pleaded. It had taken him a moment to realize she hadn't been talking to the Zygerrian as he towered over her; she was talking to _him_, telling him to stay where he was. To the Zygerrian, she'd made an excuse that she'd simply gotten lost. She played innocent and frightened very well; he'd simply smirked down at her and stepped over her to go on his way. It had taken much longer for Kanan to get his anger under control.

Now he watched blurred holoimages of the carpet. The slaver was in a meeting with two people (who still had yet to either name or show themselves above the ankle on the cams) and had brought Hera in to show her off. He'd made her sit on the floor by his chair, like a canid. Every now and then the images would shudder; at first, Kanan had thought it was just static. Then the truth hit him: the Zygerrian was stroking her lekku in a display to his guests of dominance and power. That anger he had fought down not twenty four standard hours earlier came back in full swing.

"You're going to drive yourself crazy if all you do is stare at the feed." Xyla stepped beside him, in the same human form as when they'd met, with a piece of fruit in her hand. "Have you slept at all since you got back?"

Kanan didn't turn to look at her. "Don't need it." He didn't add that he couldn't even if he tried.

Xyla looked down at him as she bit into the fruit. "She'll be alright, Kanan. She may not look it right now, but Hera's not some helpless little youngling. If she truly feels in danger, she can take care of herself."

"_I know that_," he snapped. He didn't mean it to come out so short, but he hadn't counted on just how deeply this mission would affect him. "It doesn't mean I have to like being so helpless."

Xyla shifted her weight to one foot, still munching on her snack. "If I offer a suggestion, will you promise not to bite my head off?"

Kanan had to take a breath to calm down enough to not snap at her again. "What is it?"

"I'll monitor the feed while you go get something to eat and some rest. All we need is a name and a face and we can go for an extraction. I'll call you if anything develops. Deal?"

His initial instinct was to decline and continue watching the gutwrenching footage until they got their info. This whole mission had been his idea, and as a result he felt responsible for whatever happened to Hera. But really, what good was he doing just sitting here waiting for either a name to be mentioned or to explode from outrage at Hera's treatment?

He blew out a breath through his nose and ran a hand over his face. "Fine." He stood and headed for the hallway, then stopped. "Call me immediately if something happens."

Xyla rolled her eyes and waved him away. "I just said I would, didn't I? Get outta here."

A single meal bar was the only thing Kanan could force himself to eat. He didn't think he could keep anything else down. Now without the holoimages playing before his eyes, they instead played on an endless loop in his mind. What was going on now? Had one of the people the Zygerrian was meeting with finally slipped up? Had that bastard touched her again?

He forcefully shook the questions away. They weren't doing anything but getting him worked up again. He tried picturing what Hera would say if she saw him now. Probably something along the lines of him being a typical human male, always feeling like he had to protect the poor, defenseless female from the bad, scary people. Or that he was getting soft. Or that she'd personally chain him to the wall if he even thought about pulling her out early.

A smile had just formed on his face when Xyla's voice came through his comlink. "Kanan, we've got a problem."

He was on his feet and out the galley door before she even finished the last word. When he entered the control room where he'd been monitoring Hera's footage, the holoimages were gone. Xyla was working frantically at various buttons and switches. "What happened?"

"We've gone dark," she said with worry in her voice. "I think that Zygerrian mongrel trashed the necklace."

Kanan stomped down the fear that rose in his breast. What had prompted the slaver to dispose of the necklace now of all times? Had he caught wind of its real purpose? Was Hera alright?

Xyla turned to him with wide eyes. "We're blind, Kanan."

"So let's get Hera out of there." It was so simple; why did Xyla seem so at a loss?

The Clawdite shook her head. "Hera had a feeling something like this might happen. She made me promise not to pull her out until she contacted me, no matter what."

Kanan stared at her. That anger, always hiding just below the surface of his self-control waiting to be unleashed, wound its way into his concern. A dangerous combination in anyone, but especially so in a Jedi. "She did what? When was this?!"

"Just before we took off for the planet. She told me while you were checking things on the shuttle." Xyla's gaze became sympathetic and apologetic. "She knew you'd react like this if something deviated from your plan, so she made me promise."

Kanan clenched his fists and closed his eyes. He couldn't afford to lose control of his emotions because of a snag. Hera couldn't afford it. He focused on that small part of the Force that he was never able to fully escape from, drawing from it until his pounding heart became calm and that unpleasant tingle beneath his skin went numb. A handful of deep breaths later and he could open his eyes without seeing red.

"So, what do we do now?"

Xyla blinked, obviously taken aback by his abrupt change in tone. "We wait."

_I was afraid you were going to say that._

* * *

The next day and a half Kanan spent in deep meditation. Rather than focus on letting go of his emotions like his old Master would have wanted him to, he latched onto Hera's faint signature in the Force and held on with every fiber of his being. He felt nearly everything she did: disgust, indignation, frustration, anger. It made him sick to his stomach to know she was going through it all alone, but as long as he held onto her signature he knew she was still alive. That was the important thing...that was the important thing...

A surge of triumph through the Force slammed into him and nearly knocked him onto his back. She'd found something! "Kanan!" Xyla's voice echoed the excitement and relief that now flooded through him. "Hera's made contact. She's got names and sale records that go to the top of the Tilo Prime Senate. The higher-ranking Senators will give up all their contacts to keep their names out of the news and keep their positions. We've got this ring!"

Kanan sprang up and ran straight for the nearest prepped shuttle. "Great!" he answered into the comm. "I'm on my way for extraction now. Keep the engine running, Xyla."

He had just lifted off the hangar floor when Xyla's voice returned, all lightness gone. "Uh, Kanan. You might wanna hurry. She's been spotted by the Zygerrian. Her comm's gone dead."

A cold weight fell into his stomach at those words. He reached back into the Force and felt for her presence. Sudden pain erupted in his head. It both blinded him and pushed him onward, opening the shuttle and pushing it to its max speed. If something had happened to her...

The flight down to the planet seemed to take an eternity.


	4. Chapter 4

Kanan had to resist the urge to call out for Hera when he slipped into the mansion. The Zygerrian apparently thought he had nothing to worry about security-wise if it was this easy to get in. Of course, no security system could stop a pissed off Jedi anyway.

Keeping his senses open for any attack and with blasters in both hands, Kanan silently made his way through the house with a firm hold on Hera's Force-presence. She was still alive, but the pain he'd felt from her in the shuttle had lessened only slightly. He had to find her and fast.

The hum of a droid passing by the doorway in front of him focused his thoughts away from near-panic and back to the present. He flattened himself against the wall and waited for the droid to pass before poking his head out into the darkened hallway. A light shone from a room a few doors down. As good a place as any to start.

A wave of relief washed over him when he saw Hera inside. On the floor, arms chained above her head, and her clothes torn, but alive. "About time," she said when she lifted her head to him.

Kanan holstered his blasters and struggled with the restraints for a moment before losing his patience with them. He reached for the pieces of his lightsaber at the back of his belt and quickly assembled it. "Are you alright, Hera?"

"Oh, yeah. Just great. I love the feeling of my arms going numb."

Kanan gave her a one-sided grin. She hadn't lost her attitude, which meant she wasn't too badly hurt. He cut through the cuffs in an instant and deactivated the blade. "Where's the Zygerrian?" He didn't need to say what he really wanted to do to the felinoid; she could read him well enough to know what he was thinking.

Hera rubbed her wrists to get the circulation going again. "I don't know. He left me here." She suddenly gripped the collar of his shirt. "Kanan, did Xyla get my data package? It has the names of everyone he's done business with, including some in the Tilo Prime Senate."

"Yeah, she did. You did great, Hera." He carefully pulled her to her feet, his hands tightening around her arms when she stumbled with a muffled cry. "What's wrong?"

She winced as she pulled her skirt aside to reveal long, painful-looking scratches on her thigh. "Bastard."

Heat flared in Kanan's chest. His vision blurred. "Where. Is. He?"

Hera didn't seem fazed at all by the coldness in his voice or the sudden stiffening of his back. In fact, she seemed almost amused. "Calm down, Kanan. He got the worst of it." She fixed him with a look when he didn't move. "I'm fine. They're just scratches. Nothing I can't handle. Now, let's go."

One hand on her arm and a tenuous hold of his emotions, Kanan led her to the door. He made sure the way was clear before stepping into the hall, Hera limping behind him. He couldn't think about paying the Zygerrian back for this; not only would thoughts of revenge lead him even closer to the Dark Side, but his priority was Hera. She needed medical care immediately. That was what was important.

A nudge from the Force had Kanan's lightsaber active again. It blocked a blaster bolt that would have hit him squarely in the chest. "I don't take kindly to thieves, human." The Zygerrian stepped from the shadows, blaster aimed for another shot. "Or should I refer to you as 'Jedi' instead?"

"Call me whatever you want," Kanan replied flatly. "Doesn't change the fact that I've got no problem killing you if you get in my way."

The felinoid stepped closer. The dim light didn't hide the bruises that had formed on his angled face, or the way his left cheek was swollen. "Told you he got the worst of it," Hera whispered, a smile in her voice.

"I've met Jedi before," the Zygerrian continued. "Killing people outright isn't their style. The whole morality thing. And certainly not unarmed opponents."

To Kanan's surprise, he tossed the blaster aside and held up his hands. Kanan didn't lower his blade. "It might have escaped your notice, but I'm not a typical Jedi. What makes you think I won't just behead you now?"

"Because I've got a wild card: if you kill me, my droids will transmit the security cam footage to the rest of my guild. As if you weren't already hunted like an animal by the Empire, you'll have to contend with them as well. You and your Twi'lek pet."

A line of red streaked under Kanan's raised arm and slammed into the slaver's chest. Hera had pulled one of his blasters from its holster and fired before either of them knew what happened. "I've heard enough out of you. You got all electronics shut down here, right, Xyla?"

Kanan turned to see her speaking into a comlink whose design he didn't recognize. She must have stolen it from the Zygerrian and used it to contact Xyla when she had the records they needed. "Had everything dark not long after Kanan landed, Hera," Xyla responded. "You guys are in the clear. Now, get back here so we can take off."

Hera switched off the comm with a satisfied smile, which dropped when she looked at Kanan. "What's that face for?"

He hadn't realized he'd been smiling at her ever since she'd pulled the trigger. "Nothing. Let's get you back to Xyla's ship and look at those scratches."

* * *

Thankfully, the wounds weren't deep. A little bacta and they'd be gone in a few days. Hera had explained that the Zygerrian had thought he could scare her into submission when he'd caught her in his study. But he hadn't counted on her knowing how to properly defend herself. She'd laid into him with punches and knees to the face, and when he'd fallen to the floor his claws had raked down her leg. The distraction had been enough for him to activate the collar he'd put on her when he'd discarded her necklace and send paralyzing electricity coursing through her body.

Although the danger was over and the slaver wouldn't be harming anyone else, Kanan still couldn't help feeling responsible for Hera's injuries. Even now he stood outside the medbay while she slept with the aid of some powerful painkillers, watching over her as if the Zygerrian would rear his ugly head again.

"You're a weird kind of Jedi," Xyla said as she approached.

Kanan glanced at her. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, you actually have emotions. I've met a few before, back when the Republic was the one ignoring the Twi'lek slave trade instead of the Empire. Not bad people, but not exactly the type I could see myself hanging out with." She flashed him an easy-going smile. "But you...you're different."

He let out a low chuckle. "I guess I can take that as a compliment?"

"Just an observation." Xyla looked in at Hera's prone form, contemplative. "You care about her a lot."

He recognized the truth of those words, but having them spoken by someone else made his defenses shoot into place. "She's my friend," he said simply.

Xyla looked at him with a smile that clearly said she didn't believe it was that clear-cut. "Again, just an observation. We'll be back at the _Ghost_ in a few. Might wanna let Chopper know so he can get things set up for her." With that, she walked away, leaving Kanan to stare at her back in confounded silence. She was awfully perceptive for a Clawdite. While he didn't feel the least bit threatened by her or her 'observations', he wasn't exactly comfortable with someone he'd only just met a few days ago being able to see through him so easily.

He shook his head before he could start brooding. Xyla was right: he should let Chopper know they were close.


	5. Epilogue

Chopper immediately launched into a string of beeps and whistles when Kanan stepped into the _Ghost_ with an unconscious Hera in his arms. "Calm down, tin can," he said quietly. "She's alright. Just sleeping." Chopper didn't seem to buy that; his socket arms waved around his flat head in a manner that reminded Kanan of a toddler throwing a fit, only slightly less comical given the way he seemed to be doing the droid equivalent of cursing. "Shush! You're gonna wake her up. Get the ship ready to jump to hyperspace." Chopper paused, then let out another low whistle as he turned toward the cockpit. Kanan stopped and looked back at him. "What was that?"

Hera shifted against him and he adjusted his hold on her, carefully avoiding her injured leg. Keeping as quiet as possible, he carried her to her room and gently laid her on the narrow bed. He took a moment to observe her face, so peaceful and at ease now that their mission had been completed. There was even a tiny smile on her lips. His eyes fell to her neck, to the scar that she had been so ashamed of. Sadness swelled in him, not just because of the agony she had suffered as a child, but for the lifetime of self-consciousness and fear of showing her neck it had caused her. He wouldn't bring it up again if she didn't want to talk about it anymore, but he hoped that one day she wouldn't feel so pained by its presence. Especially since she had just proven that she refused to be a victim anymore.

Kanan stroked a thumb down the side of her jaw with a silent promise that he wouldn't let her suffer an indignity like that again if he could help it. She shifted again, her smile growing in her sleep. That was all he needed to know that everything would be alright. He left her to her rest and headed out to join Chopper at the ship's controls.

_Onto the next..._


End file.
